


Proper Lovers

by WendyNerd



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Stress Reliever, everyone is neurotic and overworked, quickie sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 11:39:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8577040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WendyNerd/pseuds/WendyNerd
Summary: The responsibilities of being King and Queen leave little time for romance...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Brought this over from tumblr. Unbeta'd

The world can’t and doesn’t stop moving. And people in their position don’t have time for afterglow and languid hours in bed. Even with the war over and the winter ended, there’s the recovery from all of that to attend to. And that their responsibility.

And it’s their responsibility to make time to “attend to the succession”, as Sansa likes to call it. The euphemism actually makes her laugh.

Near the tail end of another long, dull small council meeting, Sansa reaches under the table and taps her husband’s knee three times. His mouth twitches, and he immediately begins dropping hints about the matters of the day being settled. It takes agonizingly long for their advisors to pick up on it. Sansa strokes his thigh in the meantime.

Finally, Jon loses his patience. “Well, thank you, my lords, you are dismissed. Manderly, wait for me in my study, won’t you?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

They’ve gotten to the point where their council doesn’t think it odd when the king and queen don’t rise and leave with them. Jon turns toward her slightly, pulling a sheet of parchment forward and makes a dull-sounding remark. The king always confers with his queen. Nothing is amiss.

As they file out of their council chamber, however, they don’t overhear their king’s next murmured statement to his wife. “If you’re not on this table the moment that door shuts, I’ll throw you on it.”

She’s already bunching up her skirts as she gets to her feet, giddy over her surprise for him. Sansa places the parchment to the side daintily as the double doors take their final swing, and when the thing shuts, she hops atop the cold wood surface. Jon grabs the back of her head and kisses her deep, his other hand reaching beneath the lower panels of his jerkin. He pushes urges her to sink so she’s on her back before long, him looming over her. When they break apart, he drops his trousers and one hand goes to her bodice, the other between her legs.

A wicked smile springs to his face when his fingers find her already-slick folds. “You little minx, you were planning this.”

“A good queen is always prepared,” she replies as he yanks one side of her bodice down, causing her left breast to spill out. He clutches it, thumb circling her hard nipple while his other thing plays with her bud. Sansa arches her back and drags her nails along the surface of the table.

His hips come forward and he begins grinding his shaft up and down her mound. Sansa quivers. “Manderly is waiting,” she gasps.

“Let him,” he groans. His fingers enter her as his cock rubs against her. First one, then two. Sansa grabs his wrist and glares.

“Inside me now, Jon Stark,” she says through gritted teeth.

When he enters her, he moans. His pace is hard and fast, and his eyes go between her face and her exposed breast as it bounces with every thrust. Sansa grins, but she yearns for more contact, so she pushes herself up and yanks at his doublet, pulling it open, then his tunic to expose part of his chest. Her mouth finds the hollow over his throat, and she sucks at the skin there. One of her hands finds his arse, another fists his dark curls.

The force of him becomes almost punishing. Almost. It brings her to a peak instead. She grins with satisfaction when he spills within her, gasping her name.

There’s no time for afterglow. There never is. Manderly is expecting him. They pull apart dutifully and reluctantly, fixing their clothes. He bends down to pull up his hose, and she steals and kiss from him as he rises. He responds with passion, but pulls away, the look on his face almost tragic.

Sansa wipes herself up with a handkerchief. It does not do for a queen to meet with her steward with cum running down her leg.

She’s glad they did this when they did, because when she returns to their chambers that night, she’s far too exhausted to couple with her husband. She finds Jon already in bed, awake, hands folded behind his head and eyes glued to the canopy. Sansa slips out of her gown and into her nightrail and crawls into bed, curling up around him. His heartbeat is a comfort. Sansa closes her eyes, waiting for sleep to take her.

“I’m giving regency to Davos,” he says suddenly.

Sansa’s heart skips a beat and her eyes pop open. She’s designated regent, given absolute rule for when Jon is called away. And she’s his queen. For him to make a decision like this stuns her. She pulls herself up.

“Have I offended you in some way? Failed in my duties?” She’s dismayed, and more than a little angry. She carried the North through the war while Jon was negotiating with Daenerys and commanding armies at the Wall, taking care of everything through the blizzards and keeping the armies supplied and the lands peaceful all that time. She supported Jon when he was named king, despite her stronger claim and how she arguably deserved it more. She’s carried every burden with him from the day they reunited, often taking on more weight than even he has. She’s easily spent more time actually ruling the North than he has, with the war having called him away. And it was her decision-making and sacrifices that had saved his life and his armies more than once. When he returned to Winterfell, he was still recuperating and still wasn’t prepared for the matters of day-to-day rule, and of their home’s unique needs, and she’d been patient and kind, caring for him and comforting him and bringing him up to speed on their non-martial concerns. She’s given herself to him in more ways than one. He wouldn’t have anything without her.

He asked her to trust him. And she had. For him to just suddenly take advantage of his position and remove her from power all of a sudden…

The warmth and familiarity in the room has died a quick death. Sansa feels cold inside and out.

Jon pushes himself upright at once, looking panicked. “No! No! That’s not what I— You don’t understand.”

Sansa’s eyes narrow. “Enlighten me.”

Jon reddens. “Not… Not permanently. And he’s not replacing you. I just want us both to rest for a while.”

Sansa feels some relief, but confusion keeps most of it at bay. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, no more quick couplings between meetings,” he says, shoulders relaxing and eyes growing gentle, “I mean, a couple of weeks where we can truly relax, belong to ourselves, live a little. Maybe go somewhere warm. Have you to myself instead of sharing you with the entire North.”

Now she is truly relieved, and touched. “But, the realm—”

“I think we’ve done a good enough job of stabilizing things that the realm can survive a couple of weeks without us,” his right hand finds her waist and his left strokes her hair, “If you don’t want to, I understand. But don’t you think we’ve earned a little time? A little time for us to be proper lovers?”

Her face falls. “I think you’re a proper lover. I have since our first kiss.” Has she not assured him of that? “Not many could make me feel that way atop a table.”

Jon smiles, almost bashful. “Aye, but I mean… I want to have mornings where we can just lay together for hours on end. Where we don’t have to squeeze our intimacies into fifteen-minute bursts. Where I don’t have to leave you to wipe yourself up with a handkerchief. I mean, gods, when was the last time we were properly naked together? The last time I got to make love to you in a proper bed without having to worry about keeping us up too late? The last time we got to act just like a man and a woman, instead of a king and queen?”

“But we are a king and queen.” She sighs though, wistful. “We have people that need us.”

“Well, I’m one of those people, and so are you. Maybe you can go on like this forever, but I can’t,” he looks at his lap, “I didn’t save this world so I couldn’t enjoy it.”

She smiles and cups his cheek. Their eyes meet. “Come now,” she says gently, “Are you telling me that you never get to enjoy things?”

“Not as much as I should. Especially where you’re concerned. I don’t like that I don’t get to be the lover I want to be. I want to… to…”

“What?”

He turns the color of an overripe tomato. “Don’t laugh,” he warns.

Unfortunately, saying something like that is enough to make her feel a fit of giggles come on. She tries to keep a straight face. “Alright.”

“I want to… I want us to walk in the glass gardens together, I want to pick flowers for you there. I want to feast with you in a great hall and feed you bits from my plate without having to pretend to like anyone I barely know. I want us to go swimming and picnic and ride together just to be in beautiful places together. I want to see you silks and jewels, laughing, with flowers in your hair, and for you to wear those things for me. Not for some visiting lords or dignitaries or to display the wealth and power of the crown. Just for me. I want us to couple in the woods under the eyes of the old gods. I want to maybe win a tourney wearing your favor and crown you Queen of Love and Beauty. I don’t know… I want us to see the south the way you always wanted to see it when you were a girl.”

She’s grinning and covering her mouth. He scowls.

“You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

“I’m not!” She throws her arms around his neck and kisses him. When their lips part, she looks into his dark grey eyes. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

He looks like a child. “Truly?”

“Yes.” She gives him another kiss. “We’re young. It’s time to act like it.”


End file.
